Inside the Plastic Dream
by Aphrodite Moonflower
Summary: One girl's life and times with the hottest Electro band around, Kraftwerk Orange, and her various erotic entanglements with its members. Contains het and femmeslash. Eventual implied Howince. First Boosh fic and I suck at summaries but thrive on feedback.
1. One: Johnny

**This is my first fic for this ever! I don't own any of it but my OFC! I'm taking a few liberties with the frame of time because the story could not feasibly play out over such a short amount of time as was shown in the Electro episode. Hope you like! It gets better after the first bit. Gotta start somewhere, right?**

She never meant to be one of those girls. It all started with Johnny.

She never went out; it just wasn't her scene, it was so bloody awful, so phony! But she couldn't stay in anymore, either. She was still a young thing, but she wasn't getting any younger, either, and her family was starting to drive her up the fucking wall.

She didn't know what exactly she was looking for that night, hadn't the faintest idea, to be quite honest. Didn't know where she was going, all dolled up to put every passerby to crying shame, what her goal was (if she even had one), or what she would find. All she knew was that she was out of that cramped house and that the cool London night breeze felt sensational against her face, tossing her long blonde hair in all different directions.

A sign caught her eye. **The Velvet Onion**, it proclaimed.

"Wha…" she started before breaking into a fit of giggles.

Dear God, it was so damn stupid! People just didn't even try anymore! May as well have called the place 'The Froofy Strudel' or 'The Golden Buttplug.'

She drifted closer, curious as to what she could see through the glass door.

Sweet electro beats hit her ears, one of the many sounds she enjoyed the most. That kind of music made her hips twitch and brought her arms up like nothing else, sent her hair flopping carelessly, even drove her to pull shapes in the mirror at times. The sound of the keyboard was her crack; she was a slave to the synth.

For the first time in her life, she sauntered into the place like she owned it.

She let the music take over, contorting her body into whichever positions it may, with no regard to who was watching or what they might have thought. She wasn't here for any of those fuckers anyway. Not a one of them had even stood out to her. She was out tonight for nobody except herself, in this retardedly named club for nothing except the music.

She didn't know how long she had been there when she felt the hand on her arm.

Her eyes popped open to their full wideness, spitting green fire, ready to go off on this ballbag who had cut into her reverie. She wasn't a violent person, but this had been her moment for herself and nobody else. The beauty of it had been shattered.

She took in the sight of some wannabe electro looking cheesedick wearing two hats. Whatever she had been ready to scream at the intruder was immediately forgotten as she frustratedly burst out with, "You've got two fucking hats on!!!"

The guy grinned cheekily as though he had just been complimented and said, "Yeah, I know, that's my thing! I'm Johnny Two Hats!"

"You look like a right tit!"

"You look beautiful! I've never seen you in here before!"

"That's because I've never fucking been in until now!"

"Why not?"

"Because I hate going out. Nothing but a bunch of idiots!"

"Well, you certainly looked to be enjoying yourself."

"I was, yeah. Enjoying myself," she replied, putting the slightest emphasis on the word 'self,' hoping he would catch her drift and go away.

She had no such luck.

"You know, you move amazingly. May I buy you a drink?"

She _was_ sweating, she realized. And he did ask nicely.

"Yeah, okay, but don't expect any sexual favors just because you bought me one fucking drink!"

Johnny laughed. "No worries. Something tells me you're hiding a switchblade somewhere on you and that you won't be afraid to use it if you feel as though you have to."

Actually, it was only a small can of mace, so she chose simply to say nothing. It was a good idea, though, and she would have to thank him for it later, if she ever saw him again.

They spoke over drinks. He still by no means sent her into a state of cardiac attack, but he wasn't as much of a clueless nob as he had seemed at first, either.

He had a demo full of songs that he swore would kickstart a new electro revolution and was in a band with who he claimed were two of the most badass electro girls around, Neon and Ultra (she scoffed internally; she bet they were nothing but two airheaded, leg spreading mall girls fresh out of secondary school who had only adopted those names last week; Johnny might even have given them to them). They were called Kraftwerk Orange (she scoffed inwardly yet again at the clear ripoff from one of the cult classic film greats and outwardly at the even clearer and more unforgiveable ripoff of the true electro pioneers who, it seemed to her, never got the recognition they deserved). He didn't notice her disdain and continued.

"The only problem is, we haven't got a singer. I was thinking maybe you'd like to do it. You're certainly pretty enough to be an attention grabbing frontwoman, and the way you moved out there, wow! I bet you could pull shapes like nobody's business!"

She told him nothing of her mirror practice and replied, "No, thank you. It's very flattering, but I'm just not the band type. Stage fright would be an issue also. She didn't have the heart to tell him the true reason she declined- that she in no way wanted to be seen as a ripoff artist, and a foolishly pretentious one at that.

"That's too bad. Come back to my place, anyway. I'll give you a copy of our demo, you could have a listen. Maybe you'll change your mind. If anything, you could help get the word out about us."

"I'd love to give you a listen, but I'm in no way drunk enough to go to your place yet. I don't even know you!"

"Yeah you do, I'm Johnny Two Hats!"

She good naturedly rolled her eyes and shouted an order for another round. "I'm getting this one, though! So I won't owe you!" she exclaimed.

Two drinks turned into four and, after another brief stint on the dance floor, into seven.

"Let's get out of here, it's starting to spin!" she suggested.

"Okay, I'll play you our demo!"

"Sounds great!"

"Yeah, that's what you'll be saying when you hear it!"

"Oh, fuck you!" she laughed as they stumbled out into the streets of London.

They tipsily chatted and laughed merrily on the brief walk back to the flat he shared with Neon and Ultra, the two electro girls from his band.

"Are your bandmates here? I'd love to meet them!" she exclaimed as he fumbled with the key.

"Probably not. Those two are very rarely back in before four A.M., at least."

Sure enough, Johnny's call of, "Neon!!! Ultra!!!" was answered by nearly deafening silence. He flicked the light on.

Nail polish, magazines, makeup, clothes, CD's, books, and various hair paraphernalia were strewn all about. She hadn't met the girls, knew nothing in the world about them, but the place seemed too still without them.

Johnny smiled as she sidestepped, the spiked heel or her sparkling shoe narrowly avoiding a half-crumpled tissue streaked with wiped-off lipstick. "I take the bedroom; it was my flat first. They've marked the rest of the place all up, though. They usually wind up passing out on the couch, still in that night's clothes."

"What about when they…you know…entertain?"

Johnny laughed. "They either 'entertain' elsewhere or don't give enough of a shit to not fuck on the couch or the floor. I wouldn't put it past either of them to bring their conquests into my bedroom when I'm not here."

"That doesn't bug you?"

He shrugged. "Nah. We're like a family, really."

"I don't fuck people in my parents' bed, or my brother's, and I'd beat the shit out of my parents if they ever fucked in mine."

"They probably are right now," Johnny deadpanned.

She hit his shoulder. "That's fucking gross!!!" she shrieked, causing him to erupt into laughter.

"Listen, you'd better quit with the nasty shit and play me that goddamn demo before I go back home- where I _won't _find my parents fucking in my bed, by the way!"

"All right, all right!"

Johnny popped a tape into an old ghetto blaster (_Very nice_, she mentally noted) and hit play.

A heavenly sound filled the air, that of her beloved electro, and she was soon hypnotically moving along with the music, partly in an intoxicated stupor, but mostly in a gloriously hazy keyboard induced trance.

Johnny stepped closer. "Do something for me?"

"Yeah?"

"Go like that," he instructed, raising his hand in the air and bringing it down over his face where he quickly jerked it sideways and swept it across.

She laughed. "Really? Why?"

"Just do it for me, yeah?"

"What the shit is it?"

"It's a little move I came up with. The girls love it and I thought maybe it could be sort of our signature thing, you know? I want to see what it looks like in continual conjunction with this song. Go on, do it for me."

She rolled her eyes but smiled warmly and began imitating the move, alternating hands as she hypnotically swayed along with the psychedelic, nearly haunting electronic music emanating from the ghetto blaster.

"Yes, that's perfect! It looks totally cosmic! Oh, that was a brilliant idea!"

"Can I stop now, then?" she giggled.

"Yes, even though you look well electromagnetic!"

"_Well electromagnetic_!" she mimicked before cracking a smile.

"Oh, shut up! I was giving you a compliment!"

"I don't think it's me being a good dancer as much as it's this being a good neat. Do you have any words to it?"

"Nah, so far this one's been giving me some trouble. I was hoping a singer would help with the lyric writing."

"Well, hopefully you'll find one soon, because this really is some great music," she said before closing her eyes and letting the beat take over once again.

Before she even realized what was going on, his hands were on her forearms, pressing them to her sides, and his lips had softly brushed hers.

She opened her eyes to see him looking a bit apprehensive yet still firm in his decision, a fierce sort of light flickering in his eyes.

In that moment, she couldn't remember why she had ever had such a negative opinion of him at the start. Just because he had on two hats? Sure, it looked a little silly, but when you created sounds like the ones that were currently filling the air, you could afford to be a little silly-looking if you wished. And, unlike most people in bands, he was really nice (especially for someone in a band called Kraftwerk Orange).

She grinned at him, feeling the alcohol burning through her, making her dizzy, but too hot, wet and tingling between her legs to pass out just yet, especially not with this music, this dirty electric aphrodisiac filling the air, sweetly, blissfully polluting her entire system.

She leaned forward and lapped at his lips with the tip of her pierced tongue, letting him know that he was more than welcome to pick up where he left off.

He covered her lips with his and she pushed his jacket off and soon it was all a blur of articles of clothing being tossed onto various points on the floor as they stumbled into the bedroom, and the feeling of his lips all over as she finally let herself fall back onto the bed, exposed to him but too lost in her alcohol fueled electro fantasy world to care.

***

When she woke up, the first thing she did was groan; her head felt as though a hatchet had been hurled directly into it from across the room.

Johnny stirred next to her before stretching and yawning. When his eyes fell upon her, they widened in surprise.

"Oh! Hi…"

"Hi…" she echoed, slightly mockingly.

"Can I get you anything to drink , or…"

"Just some water from the tap. I've got some Panadol in my purse. God, I've got such a fucking headache…"

Johnny groggily rose to get the water as she crawled on the floor searching for her purse, clad only in her sheer black nylons from the night before.

He returned with a glass of water, which he handed to her.

"Thanks. Panadol?" she asked, holding the small open bottle out to him.

"Yes, please," he replied wearily as she swallowed the pills before handing the glass to him so he could down his. "Thanks."

"No problem. Hey, I'm pretty sure you aren't one of those types of guys, but just in case, uh…I'm not…you know…looking for anything."

"I gotcha. Nothing to worry about, I'm not either. You seem very young, anyway."

"Twenty. Not that young."

"Still quite a bit younger than me, though."

She shrugged and reached for her purse, fishing for a mirror.

"What's your name, anyway? I told you mine from the very start, but I never caught yours."

She smiled demurely over one pale shoulder at him. "Oh. It's Sarah."

A comical expression crossed his face. "Sarah?"

"Yep. With an 'h' at the end."

"That doesn't suit you at all! What's your middle name?"

"Victoria."

"A bit more suitable, but still completely off the mark."

"Yeah, I'm not so fond of it myself, but we can't help what we're named, can we?" she replied sarcastically as she brushed some smeared liner from beneath her eye.

"We can't help what our parents formally christen us, but we can have a say in what we're called. Do you think that the girls' birth certificates say 'Neon' and 'Ultra'? No, they adopted those names later on in life."

"Yeah, last week probably."

"Actually, I first met them around three years ago, and they were using those names even then. That's how they introduced themselves to me and I've never known them by any other names."

"How did they get those names?"

"They took them for themselves years ago, God only knows how many; they're the same age as I am."

She blinked. There went the little girls just out of secondary school theory.

"Tried to get their real names, but they wouldn't budge an inch. So they don't know mine."

"Well, you know my name, so what the hell is yours?" she asked.

"Johnny Two Hats. Just not the two hats part. Not on paper, anyway."

She rolled her eyes as she applied shimmering pastel pink lipstick. "Well, go on then, 'Johnny Two Hats,' christen me anew."

He reached up and turned her head to face him.

"I was kidding!"

"Oh, I know you were, smartass, but I think a re-christening is in order regardless. You're about as much a Sarah as you are a Frank. Now, let's see…"

His eyes raked over her face, scanning for detail.

The morning sun glistened on her newly made up lips, making the silvery-gold sparkle-particles in the sugary, demure pink pop; the way it made the silver eye shimmer from the night before sparkle was nearly musical.

"Glitz. You're Glitz."

She laughed softly and dismissively at first, but after moments of silence (in which she pondered the name Johnny had just bestowed upon her), she said, "Glitz. I really like that, that's beautiful!"

"It's you."

She smiled, a bit more sure of herself. "Yeah. It is me. I'm Glitz!"

"Yes you are."

Her glorious moment of sunlit rebirth was interrupted by the jarring sounds of a door being slammed open against the wall and wild cackling.

"Oi, Neon, be careful!"

"Oh, shut it! What's it to you, Miss Priss?"

"Miss Priss?! I ought to fucking gut you for that!"

"Oh, you know I'm right!"

"Whatever, Neon, you're still pissed."

"Yeah? What of it? So are you, Prissy Missy!"

"Neon, you bloody cunt-"

"Oi, Ultra, check out Jenny Two Tits in there with Johnny. Whatcha lookin' at, Milk Jugs?" the dark haired girl called Neon said to Glitz teasingly, leering.

Glitz realized that she was still in nothing but last night's nylons, but suddenly, she didn't give a damn. She would never give a damn again; she was Glitz now, and Sarah was merely a bored little girl who had went out last night and disappeared somewhere along the way.

She straightened, pushing her shoulders back, making her full, creamy, pink nippled breasts, completely bared and already nearly impossible to ignore in the blinding morning rays, all the more demanding to the eye.

"It appears as though I'm looking at you, Miss Pissed," she replied, making a play on Neon's nickname for her companion.

The pale, blonde one with coloring much like Glitz's own grinned cheekily while looking off to the side. The dark one, however, kept her eyes intently focused on Glitz.

"Ooh, get you, Mary Sue. Very cheeky. Why don't you nick off now? You'll be late for school. Wouldn't want the headmaster to give you a good whipping, would we? But I bet you'd like that, you dirty little minx. Did Johnny give you a good whipping last night? I bet he did! Did you, Johnny?!" she enquired with a sudden genuine, childlike enthusiasm, her eyes going a bit round. "Did you use my hot pink studded belt? I hope you did-"

"Neon, you're pissed," Johnny interjected, cutting her off.

"Yeah, we've established this already, thank you. First Ultra and then Little Bo Peep. We're all aware that I'm still quite pissed. Who the fuck is this smart-mouthed little slut, anyway?"

"Neon, Ultra, this is Glitz. Glitz, the spitfire here is Neon, and the strong, silent type to the left is Ultra."

Ultra waved and uttered, "Hi, Glitz," while Neon said "Charmed," in her typical surly way.

"Likewise, Neon. Ultra," she added, nodding and smiling at the more easygoing of the two (though, based on her observations, that still wasn't really saying too much).

"Do either of you have the time?"

"Fuck you, Johnny, do I look like fuckin' Big Ben to you?" demanded Neon.

"Kind of. I'm still pissed too. So is Glitz."

"She can fucking speak for herself, you know, you bloody git!" Neon jeered, looking away and shaking her head at what she perceived to be Johnny's chauvinistic audacity while Ultra said, to no one in particular and with no small amount of sarcasm, "Well, this is nice. An early morning still-pissed gathering in the electro flat. We really ought to do this more often!"

Neon stomped off in search of the time, muttering all the while about 'lazy bastards,' while Ultra smirked before going to assist her.

Glitz used the moment of their absence to ask, "Is Neon always so…mad at the world?"

"Well, she's a hard girl. They both are. But when they drink, Ultra chills down a bit, whereas Neon just get ten times worse."

Before any more could be said, Ultra sauntered back into the doorway, radiating cool.

"It's quarter to eight," she announced.

"Yeah, you're fucking welcome, Johnny, you bastard!" shouted Neon from somewhere out of their line of sight before appearing alongside her companion in the doorway, looking snarky and adding, for Glitz's benefit, "By the way, Blondie, that means it's seven forty-five."

"Yes, I'm aware of that, Neon, but thanks for the clarification anyway."

Glitz shook her Panadol bottle. "Panadol?" she offered.

"Fuck you!" Neon leered halfheartedly, while Ultra crossed into the room, walking toward Glitz, murmuring, "Shit, I'll take some."

Glitz handed her a couple of tablets and a glass of water. "Cheers," Ultra said before downing them.

As Ultra retreated, Neon glared and stomped over to Glitz, saying "Oh, fuck you. Give me some then, yeah?"

"What's the magic word, Neon?" Glitz sang, enjoying herself immensely.

"The magic word is give me the fuckin' pills, you tart!"

"Those are _words_, Neon, not the magic word."

"Look, bitch, give me the goddamn pills or else I'll cut your pretty little face!"

"Jesus Christ, Neon, they're just Panadol, it's not like she's holding X over there or something," Ultra remarked, her voice thick with disgust and condescension.

"Oi! You shut the fuck up, Prisspot! What the fuck's it matter to you? I'll cut your pretty face too!"

"No you won't, Neon!"

"You think I'm bluffing?"

"Even the hardest girls bluff."

"I've cut people I didn't even know! I've cut people I was fucking!"

"You won't cut me, though. Or her."

"You want to keep on acting as though you live in my mind?"

"Neon," Glitz suddenly interjected innocently.

"Yeah?" she demanded before looking slightly shocked for just the quickest of seconds when Glitz held up a couple of Panadol to her.

She recovered quickly, though, and snatched them, along with the glass of water, from Glitz, downing them like whiskey. Afterward, she took another drink and squirted it like a fountain onto Glitz, whose reply of, "Ah, the baptismal waters. Very much needed on this lovely morning of revelations!" was not the tirade of shrieks she had been hoping for. Johnny grinned knowingly while Neon just stared.

"What the hell are you on about, anyway, you nutter?" she asked before retreating back to the doorway and throwing in, "Nice shoes," after catching a glimpse of Glitz's sparkling heels on the floor.

Glitz grinned; from Neon (especially in her current state), that was as good as "You're beautiful" or "I like you."

"Thanks, Neon!"

"Oh, just because I complimented you, don't go getting all soft on me. '_Thanks, Neon!_'" she mimicked comically, sounding like an overenthusiastic child, "Good God, you'd think the girl had never been complimented before in her life. Cover your tits," she added.

"I like my tits," Glitz replied nonchalantly.

"I like French toast sticks, but you don't see me walking around naked with 'em stuck all over me, do ya?"

"I'm not walking around, I'm in bed."

"You're completely crazy is what you are," Neon replied, for lack of anything better to say.

"Anyway, it's been a slice, but we're going to head back out and continue the search for a singer," Ultra piped up.

"What about sleep?" Glitz inquired.

"We'll sleep when we're dead," said Neon, as profoundly as she could in such a state and situation. Ultra nodded in agreement.

"Laters," Ultra said coolly. She and Neon simultaneously did the hand-across-face move Johnny had taught Glitz the night before and were out, just as suddenly and jarringly as they had stormed in.

Glitz turned to Johnny. "Well, that was interesting, to say the least."

"Yeah. Neon and Ultra are very interesting people."

"Yeah, that they are."

Glitz yawned and stretched. "Neon was right, though. I probably should be getting dressed. I need to head home. Take a shower or something. Nurse this hangover."

"All right. Listen, I know everyone says this but I mean it, because God only knows the next time I'll see you out since that's not your thing, but don't be a stranger, yeah? You should come by more."

Glitz smiled as she began redressing. "Are you sure about that? I'd love to, of course, but Neon and Ultra didn't seem too keen on me. Neon didn't, anyway."

"Are you kidding? They loved you!"

Glitz arched a perfectly tweezed eyebrow. "Loved me?"

"Yeah! That's how they are, 'specially Neon. She gives everyone shit, even Ultra. You saw. You passed a sort of test of hers, that's for sure. You didn't cave in, and she was doing everything she could think of to get a reaction out of you. That's good. You need that sort of nonchalance to roll with Neon, and you've certainly got it."

"Are you sure?" Glitz asked, now fully dressed.

"Positive. Are you currently nursing any bruises, scrapes, black eyes, burns, bites, scratches, cuts, or stab wounds that you didn't have a few minutes ago?"

"No…"

"And are those shoes Neon complimented still here?"

"Yes…"

"Then they liked you."

"Okay. Well, I liked them. They've got spunk."

"That they do."

"All right, well, since you assure me that the girls would have no problem with it, I will absolutely be dropping by. Would later on within the week be all right?"

"Absolutely."

"All right, then."

Glitz smiled at Johnny demurely, almost shyly. Blink and you'd miss it, but a tiny bit of Sarah came through in the sunlight; Glitz was still new, she had to break her in, no matter how perfect a fit she was, custom made for this luminous, supremely stylish, above-it-all young hipster. Maybe to the untrained eye she was already Glitz, maybe she always had been, but to Johnny, who had given her the name, little bits of Sarah would always remain when his eyes fell upon her, and he would always be able to tell exactly when she spoke or looked out through Glitz.

It was for this very reason that Glitz knew right then, as they smiled warmly at one another before that fateful morning's temporary parting of ways, that they would never be anything more than friends and that last night's drunken, passionate antics would never repeat themselves, no matter how much they grew to care for one another. Johnny simply knew too much; he had seen Sarah, had known her, had fucked her, and it was time to put Sarah away. Glitz was who she was now and the only person anything more than a friend (or anything less than a damned good friend) could rightly know.

They did not kiss goodbye, merely nodded kindly as their smiles deepened, wrinkling the corners of their eyes with warmth.

"Goodbye, Sarah," Johnny whispered after the door closed.

***

Glitz sashayed through the streets, pleasantly bustling with the people of London's various morning routines, the sunlight making her wild, tangled blonde hair gleam nearly white. She smiled at every passerby, and if anyone gave her a funny look, she smirked at them as though they were shit beneath her shoes.

So she hadn't run a comb through her hair? So she hadn't changed out of last night's clothes or makeup? She was still the most fabulous, best damned looking thing in those streets.

She was Glitz.


	2. Two: Vince

The first time she saw him, she was on the floor.

A brush was in her hand as she painted the ghetto blaster fluorescent pink. She lived there now, with Johnny and Neon and Ultra. It was the most exciting period of her life so far. She helped them search for a singer and promoted, promoted, promoted.

She still didn't exactly agree with their choice of band names, but she believed in their music, she believed in them, and she believed in electro; by her reasoning, so should the world. They would start with London, though.

In the short time she had lived with them, Glitz had already become more than accustomed to spontaneous loudness and being startled, but nothing could have prepared her for the sight she saw when Neon and Ultra came busting through the door, after Ultra's exclamation of, "We think we've got the one, right here!"

He was visually flawless, without a doubt the loveliest man she had ever seen. He was prettier than Neon, than Ultra, prettier even than her own beautiful self.

Neon shouted, "Oi, Johnny!!" while Ultra looked at Glitz, exclaiming in an excited whisper, "Glitz, look!"

But she was already looking; it was impossible not to.

He towered over all three of the girls, especially Glitz, the shortest of them all even when she wasn't on the floor, and he was thinner than a rake. He had creamy pale skin, ice blue eyes that could burn holes through you from across the room, flawlessly mussed dark hair to his collarbone (framing an immaculate fringe), and cheekbones that looked as though they hurt the inside of his skin just to have.

The beautiful stranger smiled down at Glitz, a mischievous little boy smile; she bet that smile had gotten him many a thing he had wanted over the years. Probably everything.

Ultra, thankfully, took care of the introductions, preventing Glitz from making of herself the clueless fool she felt inside while looking at this newcomer.

"Vince, this is Glitz. She's sort of a jack of all trades. Promoter, muse, groupie, manager-type, flatmate and assistant lyricist. When we get to the touring stage, she'll definitely come along. She's not technically a band member, but she's an integral part of Kraftwerk Orange. Our right hand dame. Glitz, this is the missing piece to our puzzle, Vince Noir. He's going to be our singer."

"Hi. It's a pleasure," Glitz said.

"Cheers. That's genius, what you're doing to that stereo."

Glitz felt her insides go runny. "Thanks! Once the pink is dry, I'm going to glitter spray all over it."

"Genius!" he repeated before adding to Ultra, "You should let her do costume and stage design, too. Or makeup!"

"Well," Glitz replied, "the face is my most preferred canvas, but something tells me that Neon and Johnny would have problems holding still long enough to let anyone other than themselves do their makeup. You do make brilliant suggestions, though."

Vince only smiled while Neon said, "Don't get too attached there, girls. We've still got to get Johnny's stamp of approval before he's officially our singer."

"Fuck Johnny's stamp of approval! Vince was born to be a frontman! He was raised by Bryan Ferry, for fuck's sake! If Johnny says no, fuck him! But I can almost guarantee that he won't. How could he?"

"What the fuck's taking him so long in there, anyway? Johnny!! Get out of the damn shitter and come meet our fucking singer!!!" Neon yelled impatiently.

Johnny appeared mere moments later. "I wasn't in the shitter, Neon, I was in the bedroom!"

"The bedroom with tile flooring, a sink, a shitter, and a bathtub as the only place to even remotely begin to lie down in? Yeah. Don't worry about making a tit of yourself in front of Vincey here. Ultra and Glitzy Goo-Goo Eyes have done a fantastic job of that and it hasn't been bothering him."

"I have not made a tit of myself! I've barely said two words to him!" protested Glitz, tossing her paintbrush up into Neon's hair without even thinking, where it slid down and left a wide hot pink streak in all the shining darkness.

Neon exclaimed, "Twat!" lurching forward and viciously digging her fingers into Glitz's tit and giving it a merciless turn.

Vince observed Neon's newly pink streaked hair and exclaimed to Glitz, "Genius! You're like the girl Midas of design. Everything you touch turns to gold, or something else that's well amazing! I'm telling you guys, let her take care of the band's look and stage design and all that stuff!"

"First things first, Vince. Neon and Ultra say we have a singer, but I need to see how you'll do with us musically. I write the songs," Johnny said, before adding, "Neon, Glitz, stop the titty twister war."

"Fuck you, Johnny, this little cunt needs to learn her lesson," Neon ground out through gritted teeth, wincing and exclaiming, "Bitch!" when her moment off guard earned her a wicked opposing directions double twister, made all the more agonizing by Glitz's long, sharp highlighter yellow fingernails.

"I improved your hair!" Glitz challenged.

"It's true, she did," Vince added.

"Fuck the both of you!" Neon exclaimed, tackling Glitz to the ground with renewed fury, sliding her hands beneath Glitz's Barbie pink painting shirt and mercilessly yanking and twisting at her uncaged breasts, as though to detach them from her body.

Vince cocked an eyebrow. "Is this-?"

"Normal?" Ultra interrupted. "Completely, yeah."

"I've got to get into this band," Vince muttered.

"All right, then. Come along and we'll see," Johnny said, leading Vince away from Glitz and Neon's breasty floor squabble (and Ultra's shouts of equal parts commentary and halfhearted attempts to put it to and end) and into the bedroom where he would play him the demo and be the deciding vote.

***

In the end, even Johnny had been ultimately won over by Vince's dynamic presence, infectious energy, dazzling shape-pulling abilities and cool, velvety smooth vocals, perfect for the songs that would kickstart the new electro revolution. He had all the makings of a stellar frontman- really, what more could one expect from somebody who had been brought up by Bryan Ferry? His androgynous beauty certainly didn't hurt, either.

Prior to the following day's practice session, Vince pulled Glitz aside.

"Try this," he urged eagerly, pushing a squat, round container into her hands.

"What is it?"

"It's for your tits!"

"Excuse me?" Glitz deadpanned, her eyebrow nearly halfway to the part in her hair.

"You know, for your tits!" Vince repeated, holding his hands out in front of his chest as if he were trying to diagram it for a preschooler.

"I'm well aware what tits are, Vince, what I'm asking is what the hell is in this and why you're telling me to rub it on my tits. Ultra was exaggerating when she said I was a groupie. I'm an open minded girl, Vince, but I'm not about to give myself a sexy tit massage in front of a virtual stranger, I don't care how cute you are."

"No, it's not massage oil or lubricant! It's a genius balm that my mate Naboo made. He's a shaman! Anyway, I don't know what he does to it, but one time I spent a whole night passed out on a hot Nicky Clarke straightener when I was pissed-..."

"Okay, OW!!!" Glitz interrupted.

"I know, right? I can't even begin to describe it! Anyway, Naboo gives me this stuff, and tells me to keep putting it on over the next few days until it's finally healed. As soon as this stuff touched my skin, it was as though it had never even happened. My flesh still looked like rotting plums, mind, and I've still got the scar, but I felt absolutely nothing. Thought it would help your tits after that twisty episode with Neon yesterday."

Glitz was a bit on the nonplussed side. "Oh…all right. Cheers, Vince!"

"Cheers," Vince replied, smiling crookedly at her as he walked away, his gorgeous blue eyes twinkling with effortless seduction.

Damn it, it wasn't right. One person should not be allowed to be so damned irresistible, especially without even trying to be.

If any other man had tried to give Glitz something he claimed was a magical balm for her tits, she would have without a doubt whipped out the switchblade she now carried on her at all times and made him a eunuch (or at least given him a damned good scare).

After all, she was really no fan of men. She had never had a real, properly functioning relationship with one and probably never would. All of her sexual encounters with them had been cheap and meaningless, products of mere boredom or intoxication. Hell, the closest she had ever even come to loving one was when she had just finished secondary school, at a job at a grocery store. He had been a bit younger than she and, quite truthfully, the spitting image of McLovin, only with long, beautiful wavy dark brown hair; girl hair. But somehow, Glitz (or, as she had been known as then, Sarah) thought he was the most gorgeous thing she had ever seen, and quite mature for his age. It was a blissful month or so that she spent basking in his attention, until he had abruptly quit one day. After using her feminine wiles to sweet talk his phone number out of a store manager, she found that he had moved clear across the country for a fiancé he had certainly said nothing about when he had been lavishing all sorts of attention on her and very nearly worshiping her like some sort of beautiful, slightly older, unattainable deity. She was gutted, but it was nothing that a few wine binges (and uncharacteristic karaoke sessions of Blondie's "In the Flesh" and Nancy Sinatra's "Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down)") couldn't fix.

But now, here Vince Noir had been, pushing some "miracle tit balm" on her and she was _grateful_ for it?

Glitz sighed and removed the container's lid.

"Let's try this stuff out."

***

"Hey, don't tell anyone, especially Vince, but I think I've got a thing for him. Like, a full fledged, twelve-years-old _thing_."

"Oooh, really?" gushed Ultra, a silly smile playing on her bright fuschia lips as she unclipped a narrow, pre-sectioned tendril of Glitz's hair, slathered bleach on it with a mid-sized paintbrush, and wrapped it up in a pre-torn strip of foil.

"Yes."

"You _like_ Vince? Like, wanna kiss him and hold him and be his Valentine like him? We all thought you liked girls!"

"Ultra!!! Be quiet!!! I said don't tell anyone, yeah?"

"Relax, who the fuck's gonna hear? Johnny's out doing who knows what and Neon is passed out drunk on the fucking couch!"

"Well still, it's the principle of the thing!"

"Since when do we give a fuck about principles? Any of us?"

"Ultra! Just don't fucking tell anyone ever, or else I'll stab you up! We're friends, aren't we? So just keep it between me and you, or else I'll fucking kick your skinny ass! When you're finished with my highlights, anyway."

To nearly anyone, there would have been countless things wrong with what Glitz had just said, but Ultra just laughed, said "I love you too, Glitzy," and unclasped, painted and wrapped another little strand of hair.

"I could flip this around on you, you know. I'm not the only one Neon accused of being a complete tit over Vince, remember? She also included you in that category. I think you wanna fuck him too, Ultra!"

"What?! Bitch, do you want platinum eyebrows?"

"Oh, look who's all affronted all of a sudden!"

"Not even. I don't wanna fuck Vince! I'm in a fucking band with him! Rule number one and the most important rule of all is that you never fuck your bandmates, ever. Besides, he's pretty, but he seems a bit stupid."

"He is not stupid!" gasped Glitz indignantly.

"Aww, how cute, Glitzy's got a little boyfriend!"

"Ultra!! I mean it! He's not fucking stupid! A bit on the vain and preoccupied with appearances side, yes, but the same could be said about any of us! Hell, look at what I put up with from you, and all in the name of stellar highlights."

"Okay, so maybe stupid is going a bit far, but he's no rocket scientist, either."

"So? Who gives a fuck about rocket science?"

"Match made in heaven, you two."

"Who was it that asked me how to spell balloon yesterday, Ultra?"

"I was fucked up!"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"Who's the one who just stood there a few days ago and let some ponce she just met the day before go on and on about her tits and some bullshit story about a 'magic balm' for them? And then actually accepted it and thanked him for it? Does that shit even work, anyway?"

"Yeah, it does, actually. Brilliantly so. Took the pain right out of the poor, bruised up little beauties."

"Huh. Imagine that."

"Yeah. I offered to let Neon use it, but she said I was a filthy bloody whore for taking it and that she wanted no part of that perverted little shit's nasty sex goo."

Ultra burst into uproarious laughter. "Oh!! Neon! As though she's some sort of proper nana or some other sort of model conservative citizen!!"

"I know, right?!"

"Ah, bless," Ultra said, carefully brushing tears of laughter from the corners of her eyes. "Anyway, Glitz, you've really got nothing to worry about where any of us are concerned. Have at him! You have my sincerest best wishes."

"Thanks, Ultra."

"Just for God's sake be careful. The last thing we need is some kind of sordid drama within the band."

"Oh please, Ultra, I put you guys above any dick. You know that."

In a rare moment of gentleness, Ultra said softly, "Yeah. I know. You're good as gold, Glitzy. Twenty-four carat. Now, hold still and let me concentrate on what I'm doing. Hate to have your name changed to Speckles or Spots, wouldn't you?"

***

"You got highlights put in, didn't you Glitz?"

Glitz was highly amused. The platinum highlights were just a bit lighter than her already ultrablonde locks and it was a quite subtle change, but leave it to fashionista Vince to notice.

"Yes, I did."

"They are genius! They add a completely new dimension to your hair! Lots of depth and facets. Fullness, too. My compliments to the stylist. The placement is perfect! Was it another one of your strokes of artistic genius, like with Neon and the pink?"

"Well, the idea was mine, but as for the actual application and making them a reality, all the credit goes to the lovely lady to your far left who is currently attempting to organize all of the nail polishes by colour."

"Ultra? You did this?"

Ultra looked over, shrugged, said "Yeah," as though it had been as simple as microwaving a hot pocket, and went back to organizing the nail polish.

"You're an artist with hair! If mine weren't so perfect already, I'd get you to do it!"

"Lucky for you that it is, then, because I believe I'd properly fuck up anyone who sat in my hair and spewed that kind of arrogant shit."

Vince merely laughed and turned to Glitz, continuing to openly admire her hair. "Wow. Just gorgeous."

Glitz grinned and felt something flutter in her belly and burn deliciously between her legs.

She camouflaged it well, though, and replied, "Not as gorgeous as you, dear," with just enough silk to make Vince (and everybody else) wonder if she had just complimented him or not.

***

Glitz never dreamt. Not by night, anyway, nothing that she had ever remembered.

But that night, she dreamt. She dreamt of Vince Noir and she dreamt vividly.

She heard the door open and close and the soft but definite sound of boots on the floor.

"Shh. It's me, Glitz. It's Vince. It's only me…"

She was paralyzed by curiosity, unable to move.

She felt his arms pull her up against him and set her back as if to admire her, his baby soft, warm hands gliding over cheeks and nestling in her hair.

"Shh…yes…that's it…nice and still for me…good…"

Glitz made a sound, somewhere between a moan and a coo; his fingers felt like heaven.

"Shh! Don't make a sound, Glitz…not even a peep…just let me…"

_Let you what_, her mind asked, but she remained silent; anything to prevent this rapture from ending.

Then there were small, soft sounds. Her eyes were closed, but she was pretty sure they were kisses; she felt his hair tickling her face.

She didn't know how long it went on, this gorgeous dreamworld caressing of her, but she knew the dream would soon be over when she heard him say, as if in farewell, "All right, then. Pretty thing, you are."

No! Where did the warmth go? She needed his soft hands back in the cold, dark night.

"Vince! Put your hands back! Touch me…"

"Shh. No, Glitz. I'll see you tomorrow and I'll touch you then if you still want it.

"But I do want it…I want it now…"

"Cool your boots, Glitz! Get some sleep, you need it! I'll see you tomorrow. Probably be in before you're even awake. Night!"

She heard his retreating footsteps and a closing door and, just like that, the dream was over and it was just unmemorable, mundane sleep for Glitz.

She thought so, anyway, until she halfway woke up early the next day with the soothing feeling of a warm body curled up next to her, pressing comfortably against her back and arms wrapped around her middle, hands resting on her soft belly; a face resting in her mass of tangled blonde morning hair.

Her eyes weren't open and she still wasn't sure if she was dreaming or not.

"Vince?" she asked, instinctively.

The reply, however, jolted her awake like a hot pot of coffee tossed into her face.

"No, it's not fucking Vince, bitch."

"…Neon?"

"Bingo."

"What are you doing?"

"Sleeping is the general term."

"Where's Johnny and Ultra?"

"Ultra's watching fucking morning cartoons and Johnny's doing lyrics with Vince."

"Vince is here?"

"Yeah," Neon replied in an annoyed singsong before bluntly asking, "Now, are you going to shut the hell up, help keep me warm and be my fucking nap time buddy, or are you going to keep asking stupid questions?"

"I'm not tired anymore, Neon."

"Then get the hell up, yeah? Let me sprawl out if you aren't going to stay cozy."

"How sweet. Neon's just a sweet little cuddler underneath it all, isn't she?"

"Bitch, I'm just pissed as all fuck like you were. You're lucky I'm too knackered to deal with you right now."

"I love you too, Neon," Glitz said, leaning over to peck a quick kiss onto the sleepy electro girl's glitter coated cheek.

"Oi! Fuck off!" Neon hissed, blindly kicking Glitz with (Glitz smiled as she noted) great care and gentleness.

"Sweet dreams," Glitz sang as she rose from the bed.

"Piss off. Go get all pretty so you can go fawn over your precious Vincey."

Glitz told Neon to get stuffed, but walked over to begin deciding on the day's look regardless. She did a double take in front of the antique oval full-length mirror.

"My fringe…it's been cut! And shaped! It didn't look like this yesterday! It framed my face, like a bob, if the rest of it were that short…but now it falls onto my face, around my nose and almost in my eyes! I…I love it!!"

"Shut the fuck up and go bore everyone else with your fringe analysis!"

"No, Neon, it's…it's different, I swear! It's…fringier!"

Glitz forgot all about beautifying herself and ran into the living area, still bedheaded, free of makeup, and clad in a scant, strappy white camisole and multicolored pajama bottoms, covered in strange animated cats.

Her fresh face lit up with enthusiastic joy as she gleefully shouted, "Guys, my hair! Look at it! Look at my fringe! I've got fringe now! I really must have been pissed last night, I don't even remember doing it at all!"

"That's because you didn't," came the calming voice of Vince.

"I didn't? Who did, then?"

"I did."

"You did?"

"Yeah, while you were asleep. I do it to everyone I can. They call me the midnight barber. I trimmed your split ends, too."

"So this is like a fucked up hobby of yours? Hacking away on people's hair while they're sleeping and can't do anything about it?" piped up Ultra.

"Yeah. People love me for it! I'm a hair genius, projecting my visions out and onto the world! You of all people should get it, Ultra. It was you who gave me the idea to do Glitz, actually. She just looked so smashingly beautiful with those highlights you put it, I thought why not kick it up a notch? Really up the amp? And now, she's the best looking thing for miles around. All because of my genius! And your genius too, Ultra!"

Ultra rolled her eyes while Glitz uttered, "I…I love it, Vince!"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah!" Glitz exclaimed, her happiness overtaking her as she rushed forward to where Vince was sitting beside Ultra and threw her arms around Vince, every inch the little girl she felt like deep inside.

"Glitz, you fuckin' cunt! Get off our singer!" Ultra shrieked in admonition and shock at the blissful little pajama clad girl beside her, wrapped around the lanky girlman like latex, such a far cry from the snarky, tarted up, immaculate looking little broad that usually hung about. "Anyway, your new and improved highlighted, subtly sidefringed hair isn't enough to distract from that getup. Had you planned on going around all day like that? 'Cause I've got to say, Glitzy, I'm disappointed in your slack, Miss Fashion Diva-.."

"Oh, shut it, Ultra, I've just awakened! I'm at home! You're just jealous because I can pull off anything," Glitz replied, curling up in Vince's lap like a kitten while he grinned like a schoolboy.

"It's not so bad, Ultra," Vince said. "Genius in a very cute sort of way. Snuggle-chic."

"Oh, for crying out loud, they're fucking pajamas!" Ultra exclaimed in exasperation, rising from her seat and going to where Vince and Johnny had been scribbling lyrics prior to Glitz's emergence from bed.

Glitz grinned at Vince, arms snugly wrapped about his neck as though her life depended on it; nothing existed outside of him at that moment.

"You're brilliant, Vince Noir. You're beautiful and brilliant," she whispered, leaning in and placing a soft, gentle little peck onto his flawlessly prominent cheekbone.

His answering smile shook her to the core, rocking her insides. He took her chin into his fingers and kissed her lips slowly, softly yet smolderingly, eventually coaxing her lips apart with his tongue, with the precision of one who more than knew what he was doing.

For Glitz and Vince, that had been the irrevocable moment. The time to stop pretending it was only play flirting, and the time when everybody else suddenly realized that the two of them weren't merely themselves, but also a remarkable "they" with undeniable chemistry.

The feeling of Vince's lips and the irrepressible sounds of his pleasure tormented Glitz in the most delicious of ways, moisture building and building inside her wildly tingling cunt until it seeped through the thin material of her pajama bottoms. She wore no panties beneath them; Glitz never wore panties.

Vince felt the hot fluid emanating onto his leg, through his skin tight trousers. His cock ached and pressed against them, begging to be freed from its fashionably upright restriction; for the first time in his life, he was completely frustrated with his clothing.

Johnny and Ultra scoffed at the shamelessly amorous scene playing out before their eyes, but neither were the least bit surprised. They left, not bothering to announce their temporary departure.

Glitz and Vince soon realized that, slaves to fashion though they both were, they strongly preferred one another when they had on nothing at all.

***

Vince loves Glitz. He loves her as much as he can love a person, anyway, which is really no more than he already loves everybody.

But when she's sliding up and down on his cock, her slick, taut wetness enveloping him, constricting and pulsing around him, driving him into near oblivion, her head thrown back in ecstasy, long, tangled blonde hair catching the light even when there is none, he forgets that he's Vince Noir, the stuff of local legends, and he forgets that she wants him, just like every other girl he's ever met; Ultra and even Neon would probably want him if they weren't in a band with him.

He forgets it all. The only thing he knows is pleasure and that she makes him feel primal and that nobody will ever be able to fuck like her, so they shouldn't even try.

He wants to make her scream, to shatter the illusion of any control she might have over him.

He leans forward, takes a nipple into his mouth, and alternates between biting down hard and sucking like a demented baby.

He grabs her wrists and bucks his hips upward, fucking her deeply and painfully and reveling in her sudden and complete loss of control as she trembles above him with the onset of a trail of multiple orgasms.

His teeth clench in a maniacal, nearly sadistic grin around the pink pearl of her nipple as he continues to fuck the immobile, gushing, nearly screaming girl above him.

"Slut, you like that, don't you?"

He has never been the type to say things like that (or much of anything) in the act, but he has never wanted so badly to prove to somebody (and himself) that they have zero control over him. And he has never wanted so badly to please somebody, never wanted so badly to be the best fuck somebody has ever had.

And when she whispers and then squeals, "Vince..oh, Vince…Vince!" as she pours out all over him, he comes, shooting up inside her; he feels as though it could shoot straight through her and to the heavens themselves.

He's quaking in a way he never has before, and he exclaims, "Fuck, Glitz!"

He's forgotten to play it cool; when she said his name, it broke through his wall of resolve.

And after they've spilled themselves all over one another, he flips her over onto her back, licking between her legs, trying harder and harder, looking as though he's engaged in some sort of deranged goddess worship, and he is.

In the heat of the moment, Glitz has become something of a goddess to him. He's desperate to make her come over and over again and he does, all throughout the night, manipulating her with his tongue, making her bloom like a flower in springtime, then running the gamut between holding her wrists, riding her well into the morning, fucking her roughly until she bleeds, and sweetly making love to her, kissing tenderly all over her face, neck and shoulders, whispering the most gorgeous things into her ear, things she didn't even know she was capable of, until they finally pass out just as dawn has broken; for just a little while, picture perfect lovers.

***

_Glitz Noir_, she whispers to herself. It's not that she wants to marry Vince; it's just that it sounds so fucking perfect.

She wants to write it in a notebook, over and over again, in every possible font and colour, but she knows that Neon and Ultra would somehow find it and never let her live it down. Especially Neon.

So she settles for merely whispering it to herself and having it written all over the inside of her mind, in neon pink cursive.

It becomes a bit of a mantra to her, something she says to herself in front of the mirror before making that day's debut, or whispers to herself for consolation in down moments. It works a hell of a lot better than all that Buddhist chanting she's seen people get way too into.

She gives her reflection the once over, liberally sprays her hair one last time, even though it doesn't need it; reapplies an unnecessary third layer of lip gloss.

She smiles shakily.

"Glitz Noir," she whispers.

She pushes her shoulders back, tosses her head, and saunters out into the room where the band is congregated.

At the sound of the bedroom door opening, all eyes are on her; Johnny smiling warmly in welcome; Ultra rapt with curiosity; Neon smirking knowingly; Vince alight with mischief and whimsy.

Glitz means to utter a casual hello to all four of them, she really does, but somehow she just winds up exclaiming, "Vince!" running to him, wrapping herself around him like a blanket, and showering his face with a series of quick kisses.

Johnny looks slightly concerned. Neon scoffs and loudly mutters, "Fucking schoolgirl nit."

Glitz cuts Neon a look of steel, her eyes green daggers; nearly neon switchblades.

Neon need not give her so much shit.

She's not in love.

So why do they suddenly treat her like a sick child in quarantine, all of them except Vince?

***

There's somebody else. She knows there is.

For whatever reason, that somebody may not be an option; Vince acts to the world and even to himself as though Glitz is his somebody.

But Glitz is not a stupid girl. She knows that she will never be his somebody the way that she has allowed him to become her somebody.

She knows that she's somebody enough- but somebody enough is not enough for her. She pretends to be jaded, but deep down she believes in love, that she might someday find her somebody. She desperately wants for it to be Vince, but she cannot allow herself to settle, to claim as her somebody a person whose somebody she is not.

Still, she tries. Before closing the book on him, she tries to get him to see her somebody potential, to see if maybe she can change his mind, though he doesn't even seem to realize what she realizes.

She gets down on her knees and sucks him better than anybody ever has and she does it constantly, her eyes staring up at him. Large, glassy green picture windows, conveying everything as her plump, rosy-pink lips slide over him.

She really thinks that it works, every single time. His eyes lock onto hers and she thinks she sees something flickering in them, something true and blue and oh so beautiful, but it's gone soon enough and he's back to being the same old happy-go-lucky Vince.

She's really making it too easy for him, she decides. It's the heat of the moment. What man doesn't love a good blowjob?

No, she won't take it easy on him. She'll be demanding.

She makes him return the favor. She pulls on his glossy black hair, musses it, gives it even more big volume, forcing his glorious angular face into her, commanding him to lick her, to seep up all of her juices like a good boy.

He does it and he does it willingly, but he still just gets so sweetly and unwittingly blasé about her later on, even when they're alone.

Now she's just fucking angry.

She's going to make him love her.

She forces him onto his back and hovers over him, legs at either side of his head, fucking his face with a vengeance, grinding against it, forcing him to tongue wildly at her or else suffocate gorgeously, drowning in her love.

He's frenzied and he loves licking it all up, loves it when she rides his face, bucking fitfully at the whims of his tongue.

_Oh, yes! _she thinks. _He loves me!_

How beautiful he looks with his face covered in her nectar; glowing; luminous; exquisite. Her dirty angel.

She nestles next to him, wraps her arms around him. Dotes on him, brings him water when he asks for it, because she loves him. And he loves her too, the darling!

She falls into the soundest sleep she's had in days, beside the only one she's ever loved; and he's a guy! Imagine that!

She never thought she would fall, but she realizes that she's blessed.

And when she wakes up in the morning, her Prince Charming is gone without a trace and nowhere to be found.

***

Glitz just doesn't even know anymore.

She doesn't know how Vince feels, if he feels, or why she feels for him.

She doesn't know why she continues to go through the motions with him, knowing that she'll never be to him a fraction of what she's sit back and stupidly allowed him to become to her.

She doesn't know why she's curled up on his couch with him, her head laying on his chest, watching a video about kangaroos. She doesn't feel warm next to him anymore, and her heart only hurts these days.

A door opens and Vince is suddenly all curiosity. A man comes into view and, suddenly, Glitz does know. She knows everything; the increase in the heart rate beneath her ear tells it all to her.

It's the jazz creep Neon and Ultra told her about. Vince loves the jazz creep! That's his somebody, the reason he will never love Glitz.

She doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. Relief is always refreshing, even when it comes at the price of endless heartache; and what a hilariously odd pair they would make!

Maybe, just maybe, though, that was that Vince needed; a polar opposite, somebody content to step back and let him take the spotlight, somebody so square that no matter what he did, he would never appear anything less than the absolute cutting edge, the epitome of all that is cool; a local legend.

And Glitz supposed that she would have gotten very tired of arguments over the mirror.

Overwhelmed by a myriad of conflicting emotions, Glitz rises to her feet.

Vince moves his eyes from the jazz creep and asks, "Where are you going?"

"Just remembered something very important I needed to do for Neon," she said by way of an excuse before adding, "besides, you've been spending so much time with all of us lately, I just thought I'd give you some guy time. I'd hate for you to lose sight of the things that really matter."

Vince shrugs. "All right. Have fun,"

"You too," Glitz utters, placing a quick peck onto Vince's forehead, nodding and smiling briefly at the jazz creep, and leaving, walking alone through the streets of London with her head full of thoughts and her heart full of turmoil, just as she had done countless times before.


End file.
